Saving Sammy
by clair beaubien
Summary: REPOST: tag scene to "In My Time of Dying" Dean thinks about the last thing Dad told him at the hospital.


Tag Scene to In My Time of Dying

* * *

_If you can't save Sammy, you have to kill him._

Straight from the hospital, Bobby took us to the motel where he'd already gotten us a room. He handed over the key and though I was the closest to him in the cab of the truck, Sam took it before I could.

"Room 112. I'm in 227." Bobby said. "Tomorrow we'll hook up the Impala and head to my place. You boys get some rest."

"When's your friend gonna get Dad?" Sam asked. The hospital wouldn't release Dad's body to us; Bobby knew a funeral director who they _would_ release him to and he'd bring Dad to Bobby's for us. "We're not leaving without Dad."

Bobby sighed like this was a conversation he didn't want to have and an argument he knew he couldn't win.

"I'll double check with him. I'll see if we can all head back to my place together."

That apparently wasn't good enough for Sam, who gave Bobby the John Winchester _'try again' _stare.

"We'll all head back to my place together." Bobby promised. That was good enough then. Sam opened the truck door and got out, made sure I got out okay, then grabbed our duffels from behind the truck seat.

"Thanks," he said to Bobby, but it sounded like it came with conditions. Then he turned away and didn't look back and opened the door to our motel room. He put his bag on the closest bed, mine on the furthest, and took a practiced turn around the room, checking locked windows, behind closet doors and under beds.

"Take a shower. I'll get us something to eat." His voice was deep and old and I would've ragged him for his sudden 'take charge' attitude if I could've formed any thought beyond Dad being dead, and what he told me before he died.

_If you can't save Sammy, you have to kill him._

Save him from what? Kill him how?

"Sam?"

He was already laying salt lines, but he stopped to turn to me. The massive bruises on his face should've made him look young and vulnerable, but they didn't. Not anymore. The boy from the hospital with tears rolling down his face, who was polite and attentive to every hospital staff member I wanted to put through the floor, was nowhere to be seen. Sammy stood before me, tall, dry eyed, and determined. When did he get so old?

"You want me to wait until you're done?"

He was serious. He thought I wanted him to stay with me while I took a shower. In case – in case what?

_If you can't save Sammy…_

What I really wanted to do was put Sam behind me, take up every weapon we own, and wait for all comers.

"No, I'm good."

"Okay. There's a diner across the street. I'll be back before you're done."

That almost sounded like an order: _Don't even think of being done before I get back._ Dad was dead, I was wounded, Sam was in charge. Not the sneaky kind of in charge when my heart was damaged and he tricked me to going to the faith healer. No, this was full on, grab the reins, bark out orders in charge.

I felt sorry for the diner staff if they took a second longer than Sam thought they needed.

I grabbed some clean clothes and headed into the shower and when I came out, Sam was just coming back into the room with two bags of food and a two-liter bottle of Pepsi. He started to lay it out on the table, burgers, potato chips, pickle wedges, macaroni salad. Looking at it didn't give me any kind of appetite.

"You know, I think I'll just lay down for a while. I don't feel like eating anything right now."

"You need to eat. You'll eat." Sam didn't even bother looking at me. It was like he was channeling Dad.

"_Why_?" I asked, because if Sam could be Dad, then I could be Sam.

"You need to take care of yourself." Then he looked up at me. "I'm not going to lose anyone else."

He tried to glare me into submission and that wouldn't have worked. But then his chin trembled. It's not an obvious motion, you blink and it's gone, but I've seen it enough in my lifetime to recognize it: Sammy at the end of his rope. When talking and arguing and reasoning and logic have all failed and all he has left is his own raw need. I know it doesn't happen on purpose and I think Sam would rather it didn't happen at all. But it happened, and I caved. I wonder if Sammy has any idea that I would eat nails for him if he gave me that look.

"All right."

We sat down and started eating. It could've been sawdust for all the taste I was getting and it looked like Sam was feeling the same way. But we ate. And sooner or later we'd have to sleep. We were in for a long day tomorrow cooped up all three of us in the cab of Bobby's truck and it wasn't gonna be pretty if any one of us was sleep deprived.

_If you can't save Sammy…_

Would Dad have given a similar order to Sam? _If you can't save Dean, you have to kill him_. If he had, half the hospital would've known about it within three minutes for all the shouting that would've followed. Sammy would've been _"What are you talking about?"_ and _"Save him from what?"_ and "_Don't you walk away from me when you haven't told me a damn thing."_

At least maybe then Dad would've been goaded into telling absolutely everything he knew before he died.

Because he died.

And I was left with the puzzle of figuring out what I was supposed to save Sammy from, and how and when to decide that I couldn't save him at all.

And I couldn't tell Sam because – why? He wasn't old enough? He wasn't strong enough? Because he would read doom into every mood swing and sleepless night he had? Because Dad wanted him to hold onto some shred of innocence as much as I wanted him to? All of that and more I supposed.

He was going to have to be brought into it eventually. He was going to have to know that we were on the lookout for something, anything, so that he didn't keep anything to himself out of embarrassment or not realizing it might be important. And really, in a clinch, Sammy was the strongest person I'd ever known.

He probably didn't even know that.

"You know, Sam, I was thinking – these past few days – after what happened in the cabin, you got us out to the car. Dad and me, you got us packed up and out to the car on your own. Then after the truck rammed into us, you protected us when that demon ripped the door off the car. You were half out of it yourself and you kept him from finishing the job." I was giving my version of what Sam had told me at the hospital after I came to and before Dad died.

"Then you got the Colt into the trunk so no one could find it, even though I don't know how you could walk. At the hospital you dealt with the doctors and nurses and insurance. You took care of Dad, you watched out for me. You called Bobby and got him to agree to tow the car when any sane person would junk it where it sat."

I could see that Sam had no idea where I was going with this retelling of everything that happened, but he didn't stop me or ask what I was talking about.

"You didn't give up on me, Sam. You sensed that I was around and got that magic board thing to talk with me. You tried to figure out how to save me from the reaper. I know you didn't let me give up on myself. You were there when I woke up, you got help for Dad almost as soon as he collapsed…"

Sam's chin trembled again at that and I pressed on.

"What I mean is – Sammy – for the past three days you singlehandedly held this family together. You held us together in circumstances that would've crushed anyone else. I'm proud of you."

He nodded that he heard and when he bent his head down to his half-finished meal tears rolled down his face and splashed onto his hand. We kept eating and not saying anything else until we were done.

"You need to get some rest." Bossy Sam was back. It was only late afternoon and he was sending me to bed. He gathered up our trash and threw it out and actually pulled the blankets back on my bed. So help me if he tried to pat my head or kiss me goodnight -

"You need to get some rest too, Sam. Have you slept at all in the last three days?"

"A little, last night. In the chair in your room."

Last night, when Dad was missing and I was still out of it, Sammy got _a little_ sleep in a hard chair next to my bed. Define _little._

"So tomorrow stuck in the truck is gonna be a fun day."

"We'll have Bobby drive with his friend, I'll drive his truck." Sam said, and if Bobby could see Sam right now, I don't think he'd refuse the 'request'. Save Sammy from _what?_ I thought again. Get him in a mood like this, tell him what we're after, and get out of his way. Case closed by sundown.

"We still both need sleep to survive the trip." I said.

"Yeah."

"C'mon, Sammy – you first. Lay down, get some rest." I pulled the blankets back on _his_ bed and waited for him. I might even pat his head when he laid down. He only sat down though on the mattress, so I sat down on my mattress across from him. Our knees almost touched.

His eyes swept over my bed and for a minute I thought he was going to ask if he could sleep with me. For a minute, I thought I wouldn't refuse him. But he took a deep breath and The Boss was back.

"Do you need anything before you sleep? Painkillers? Ice pack? Heating pad?"

"No, I'm good."

"Okay." But he didn't move.

"We gonna do this on the count of three?" I asked. "Last one down has to buy the coffee when we wake up."

"Yeah." Sam tried to smile but it didn't even make it to his eyes.

_If you can't save Sammy…_

Save him from what? From the evil he didn't know about yet? From the despair that would overwhelm him when he finally did know? Save him from his naiveté? From his bullheadedness and every other quality that made him so much like Dad?

"You go to sleep too, Dean. Wake me up if you need anything."

"I will."

"Promise me."

"All right. I promise." I made it sound lighthearted though I felt anything but. It was enough for Sam though. He nodded and lay back in his bed and turned over to bury his arms under his pillow. I pulled his blankets over him. I thought he must've fell asleep right away because when I sat and watched him for a little while, he didn't turn back over and order me to sleep.

…_you have to kill him._

"Are you gonna make me _put _you to bed?" I heard from deep inside the pillow on Sammy's bed.

Dad might not have to worry – if Sam kept bossing me around I was gonna kill him anyway.

I shut off the light and dropped myself back onto my pillows. The ugly curtains weren't doing much to keep sunlight out of the room, and the heater was making a noisy job of keeping us warm. Not much incentive to sleep for a man who had spent a day or so unconscious.

Sammy on the other hand was down for the count if his breathing was anything to go by. When I was sure I was safe from being forcibly pinned to my bed, I got up and got myself another plastic cupful of Coke.

I wondered if The Boss or my little brother would appear when Sam woke up again. I wasn't sure I could take much more of Bossy Sam. When Sam was Sam, I could think straight, make plans, watch for threats, be in charge. Bossy Sam made me feel like I got left in the dust. Sam in charge meant I wasn't and I don't like that. That's not how things go. That's not the way things are meant to be. That's not how things _are_.

…_you might have to kill him…_

Kill Sammy? How the hell was I supposed to kill Sammy? Physically, it would be easy enough at a moment like this. Sam was sound asleep, buried in his pillows. Even if he woke up and heard me handling a gun, it wouldn't bother him, it was a sound he was used to. I could walk right up to him, put the muzzle a quarter inch from the back of his head and -

How could Dad ask me to kill the baby brother he put in my arms all those years ago and told me to save? And almost every single day after that it was _'protect Sam, take care of him, watch him, show him, help him, teach him, protect him'_. My job is to protect Sam. What are you doing Dad, trying to cheat me out of my job?

"Dean?"

Guess he wasn't as asleep as I thought. He sat up and just when I was gonna tell him, '_Dude, I'll sleep when I'm tired' _he surprised me.

"What do we do now?" The Boss had slipped away, Little Brother was back. At least for now. Which meant I was back in charge.

"We get some sleep. Then we're gonna go to Bobby's and lay Dad to rest. Then – we're going to go on." Into a future I had no clue how to deal with.

The End


End file.
